


Champagne, Childermass and Candy Canes

by touchmytardis



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Candy Canes, Holidays, M/M, POV First Person, Pining, Road Trips, Snowed In, There Is Only One Bed, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchmytardis/pseuds/touchmytardis
Summary: Lascelles and Childermass - road trip buddies.
Relationships: John Childermass/Henry Lascelles
Comments: 13
Kudos: 4
Collections: JSAMN New Year's fanfiction exchange





	Champagne, Childermass and Candy Canes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katherine1753](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katherine1753/gifts).



December 30th, 1989. North Yorkshire.

John Childermass’ car was one of those ugly square things, it was dark brown and if I’d known anything about cars I would most likely have found more things to complain about. As it was, I had no choice but to climb inside (’here you go, princess’, Childermass had said after he’d cleared the passenger seat for me) and prepare to the spend several hours in it. It had been nice of him to offer me a ride back to London, even though I was sure it had been Norrell’s idea, and yet he seemed even less pleased about the situation than I was. But I had a New Year’s party to get to and I was sick of Hurtfew and of only seeing the same 10 or so faces day after day, so here we were, leaving Norrell’s country home together.

I could count the number of times we’d been alone together on one hand, and none of them had been very pleasant. We had learnt early on that our conversations tended to end up being fights, even in those rare circumstances where we were in agreement.

I tried to explain it to a friend once, and told her we were two magnets turned in the same direction – two north poles bouncing off of each other. She asked me why I used that analogy and I told her how badly I wanted him to turn south, to pull towards me instead of pushing away. My attraction to John Childermass was maddening. I would fantasise about him at night and I wanted our little quarrels to one day end with him pushing me up against a wall and fuck me silly. I would lose any train of thoughts whenever I saw him licking his lips or pushing his hair back or his walk… he would always wear these tight black jeans and he had the most perfect sway in his hips that would show off his perfect arse and he had that annoying habit of licking his finger whenever he was about to turn a page and it drove me crazy. I could watch John Childermass for hours.

I was pulled from my thoughts of John Childermass when the car slowed down and made a sharp turn. We couldn’t have been driving for ten minutes and Childermass was already stopping. At a STORE, after a ten minute drive. I wanted to get home and he stopped before the car had even gotten warm.

”I just need to get some things,” Childermass said as he unbuckled his seat belt.

”And you have to go shopping here? You can’t wait until you’re back in London?”

”No. You coming?”

I contemplated staying in the car, but it was fucking freezing and I had no idea how long he’d be in there so I got out of the car and walked next to him across the parking lot.

”Will you tell me why you’re stopping here?” I asked, instantly regretting the cold tone in my voice.

”Anything could happen. What if we get back after the stores close?”

”It’s not even noon.”

Childermass stopped, sighed, and turned to face me. He didn’t look quite as angry as he could be, yet, but very irritated.

”Do you HAVE to question everything? I just like being prepared and I don’t want to go to the store tomorrow if I can help it.”

He’s right. I couldn’t seem to stop annoying him. ”Sorry. I just want to get home,” I muttered.

Back in the car, I peeled the plastic off of a candy cane and kept it in the corner of my mouth as I put the seat belt back on. Since giving up smoking a few years back, those small candy canes you can buy by the handful had become my go-to when I was stressed, and being in a car with John Childermass was the most stressful situation I’ve been in since… well, I don’t remember. A long time. So I kept my hands and my mouth occupied. My closest friends always knew I’d had a bad day when I smelled of peppermint.

When Childermass got back in the car, having put his groceries away, he smelled of smoke. It was comforting and I was glad he hadn’t smoked in the car. As soon as he’d put on his seatbelt, he complained about how his car would ’smell like candy canes for months’. I offered him one, but he declined.

We finally got back on the road and out of town and Childermass turned on the radio. He fiddled with the tuner until he found a station that was actually playing music and I felt as though I could relax – he hadn’t put on some hair metal. I told him I was cold, he told me the car was still warming up. I didn’t believe him, but decided that arguing was probably a bad idea. We sat in silence while the radio played the best of the 80’s and it was actually the best hour or so I’d spent with him.

I tried to keep my eyes on the road, on the dashboard, on my hands, on anything but Childermass.

But he was right there. Grabbing the gear shift. His eyes focused on the road and his hair now tucked behind his ears and his neck (oh god his neck) tensing up ever so often, when we met another car or when there’s a bend in the road. If I looked at his face, I could avoid looking at his thighs. He’d taken his coat off and he was wearing tight jeans, showing off his fucking fantastic thighs. I thought about feeling them against my own thighs as he laid on top of me and I quickly looked away and reached for another candy cane, and then tried to focus on the landscape around us. It had started snowing and I was reminded of how cold it was.

”Could you turn the heat up now?” I asked, trying my very best to sound polite.

”Don’t want to.”

”I’m cold!”

  
”I’m not. I’ll just get tired if it’s too hot. D’ya want my coat?”

”No!”

We sat in silence for some time. The snow was picking up, but we could still see the road clearly, very few cars passed by. Not a lot of people driving south through the countryside on the day before New Year’s Eve.

”Fine.”

”What?”

”Can I have your coat?”

Childermass sighed, he pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car. He lit a cigarette, reached into the back seat and pulled the coat out. It was huge, and I knew it would keep me warm but I felt weird about wearing his clothes. It smelled of tobacco and Childermass.

”Thanks.” I said when he climbed back in, and he looked surprised. When did I become the kind of person who shocked people by thanking them for doing me favours? Maybe it was just him. I couldn’t be myself around him and it made me edgy – always on the brink of shouting and stomping and acting like the spoiled brat I’d been as a kid. It was either that or be open and honest and I couldn’t do that either. He’d kick me out of the car.

I pulled the coat tighter, thinking this was the closest I’d get to being embraced by him. Thinking this wasn’t too bad. I watched as wet snowflakes slid down the window, listened to the sound of Childermass’ fingers tapping the steering wheel to the radio.

I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly we’d stopped again and my eyes flew open when I heard the door slamming shut. It had gotten darker, and it was snowing more now. It was pretty. I asked him where we was when he sat down again, and he just muttered ”not London” as he started the car and pulled back out onto the road.

“That’s vague.”

”Listen, this seems to be getting worse.”

”And?”

”It might be a better idea for us to find an inn somewhere.”

”An inn?”

”Hotel. Bed and breakfast. Whichever you prefer. Just for a couple of hours, just to see if it gets any better. If it doesn’t we’ll have some place to spend the night.”

”Spend the night? In some roadside hotel?”

”You could just say ”no”.”

”No. I have to get home.”

”All right. Go back to sleep.”

I did. The next time I woke up, he’d turned the radio off and the world was both darker and whiter all at once. The car smelled of peppermint and the coat still smelled like him.

”I knew you wanted one,” I said, my voice hoarse with sleep.

”Fuck!” he was startled when I spoke, and the candy cane fell out of his mouth. ”Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

”Must have been nice and quiet.”

”It was,” he said, and I was sure I saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“How far away from London, then?”

”Dunno. Depends on the weather. Four hours?”

”Can’t you go any faster?”

”No,” he started sounding a bit annoyed. I should have shut up.

”You drive like an old lady.”

”Okay.”

”If you keep this up, it’ll be 1990 before we get back to London.”

”Mh.”

”Maybe your car just can’t go any faster?”

”Please, shut the fuck up.”

Maybe I had pushed a bit too far but who the hell was he to tell me to shut up?

”You can’t speak to me like that.”

”What was that?”

”You’re a god damned servant, you don’t get to tell me to shut up!”

Oh no. Childermass huffed, and pulled the car over again. We can’t have been driving for more than ten minutes since I’d woken up.

”I am not your servant, _Henry_. We’re driving through a bloody snow storm and I will not risk our lives just so you can get home in time to, what, sleep on your silk sheets in your ridiculously large flat. Wake up and go to a _salon_ so your stupid hair will have just the right amount of volume when you hook up with some poor bird who could have done so much better but who settles with you because you’re pretty and have _connections_. Kissing her at midnight to make her believe you actually care about her when all you want to do is have someone to fuck so you wont feel lonely when you wake up the next morning and realize you’ve spent another year being a complete and utter asshole.”

I felt sick. Is this what he thought of me? Is this who I was?

”Childermass-” I started, but he had more to say.

”Shut up. **PLEASE SHUT UP**. I’m driving you home as a _favour_ and if you don’t behave I’ll leave you in some ditch where no one will find you because you’ve been covered in snow because you’re so bloody useless you can’t even get up and walk away so you just lay there and freeze to death while I get to have nice and quiet drive home.”

Fuck.

”I will drive as safely as I possibly can, I really don’t want your arrogant face to be the last thing I see as we both bleed to death after having crashed into a tree.”

My hands were shaking. I was not used to people talking to me like that and the fact that it was him made it so much worse. Why the hell do I like him? He rolled the window down and lit a cigarette, his breath shaking as he took a deep drag. I really wanted one.

”Sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say or do.

He flicked the cigarette butt into the snow and rolled the window back up, turning to face me.

”I just- What is your problem? Can’t you just treat me like a fucking human being for a few hours?”

”I-”

”I know you’re capable of it, you don’t treat anyone as shitty as you treat me. Please just go back to sleep or something. I want to get home too, okay? More than anything, I want to get out of this car.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, again. I’m sorry, I only do it because I’m madly in love with you even though I know you hate me and it seems I can’t get over it so all I can do is pretend to dislike you so you wont suspect anything and hurt me any more than you’re doing right now.

”Yeah. Me too,” while it wasn’t even an actual ’sorry’, I believed him.

I believed him because I just realized he’d called me ’pretty’.

The next time I woke up, it was to the sound of static from the radio.

“Wha-?” I started, but Childermass shushed me.

_”… shelter and if you cannot do not leave your car and do not try to walk to safety rescue services will do what they can but as of now the roads are blocked and we recommend getting to the nearest town this is a night where the Christmas spirit will need to show its face – open your home to strangers, knock on a door and ask for shelter and stay safe.”_

”What?”

_”The storm is the worst we’ve seen in years and it looks like it will last until Saturday at the earliest so if you had planned on going somewhere on New-”_ the reception was going _”-ose plans.”_ Followed by static.

”WHAT?”

”Fuck.”

”Why didn’t you say something?”

”I didn’t know it was THIS bad!”

”Can we get back to the hotel?”

”You mean the one we just drove by an hour ago?”

”Where’s the map?” I ask, and he points to the glove compartment. I pull it out and quickly find the road we’re on. ”How fast have we been going?”

”I swear to God, if you’re going to complain about-”

”I’m not. How fast?”

He tells me, and I place us somewhere in the middle of a long stretch of road, no towns or villages, nothing. My calculations tells me we’re fucked.

”If you can keep the same speed, it’ll be over an hour to the next town.”

”What?”

”Around forty minutes back to the hotel.”

”Okay,” he says, looking at me with furrowed brows. ”So we should turn back?”

”If we really need to find shelter, it’s the safest bet.”

* * *

It was close to five in the afternoon by the time we were both indoors. The storm had gotten worse – so bad we couldn’t keep driving. I had been (and still was) terrified. Blizzards only happen to people who live in the country, not to people who are just passing by, it doesn’t seem fair to expose city people for weather conditions they cannot possibly handle. I didn’t even know how to shovel snow. We’d seen something bright through the snow, something reflecting the lights from the car, and so Childermass had pulled over, waded through the snow and found us a fucking cabin.

If I didn’t know how he felt about me, I might have thought he’d planned this. He knew just what to do, and had somehow gotten most of our packing (I think I helped) into the cabin. He’d built a fire and made tea, and then he’d fallen asleep. He seemed content. And here I was, still scared, still completely confused as to what to do with Childermass. I couldn’t keep treating him like the scum of the earth. He wasn’t, and he didn’t deserve it. I decided to show him I could be kind and useful.

He’d woken up shortly after I’d finished cooking (pasta, boiled in melted snow) and he seemed to be genuinely grateful. We ate in silence, he went out for a smoke and I made tea. I put a blanket down in front of the fire and sat down with both our mugs. He’d even bought groceries, because he like to be prepared. All I had was chocolate, brandy and wine – all Christmas gifts.

”Hey,” I said when he came back inside.

”Yeah?”

”I’m sorry.”

”It’s fine,” he said. Apparently he knew exactly what I was apologizing for. He sat down next to me and took a sip of the tea. ”Thanks for this.”

”Why are you being so nice to me? It’s my fault.”

”The weather isn’t your fault,” he grinned over the mug, and while I appreciated the fact that he was more amused than angry, I wanted him to know that I knew that I had been a complete ass.

”Do I need to make a list?”

”No. I just think… it’s better to let it go. We’re here so let’s just try to get along until we can leave, yeah?”

”Sure.”

We drank our tea in silence, he was looking into the fire and I was looking at him. He still looked tired, and more relaxed than he’d been all day. Maybe this really was fine. I offered him some of my brandy when we’d finished our tea, and he accepted. After two small glasses, I started feeling warm. The storm outside was raging, but I was safe inside – with a crackling fire, my drink of choice and the one man I could stare at for hours on end. He took of his sweater, and I felt the warmth spread throughout my body when I saw the white t-shirt cling to his arms. Fuck. I poured another glass, and he started asking me questions.

I told him about (some of) my family, the dog we had when I was 10 (and only when I was 10). He told me about his first year with Norrell and I told him about my last year at my old job (I was a model, I did not tell him which kind). We sat there until we were both too tired and drunk to talk, and he asked me if I wanted the spot closest to the wall or not.

I had no idea what he was talking about, and I had somehow been so distracted that I’d forgotten about the bed. The one bed. I told him I’d take the floor, and he just laughed. I think he may have helped me get into bed, and I think he may have been talking.

* * *

”Sorry…” I heard Childermass whisper, and I stirred. My head hurt like hell and why was he holding my arm? I opened my eyes and it seemed my sleeping self had clung onto him for dear life. My left leg and arm was slung over him and he was shirtless and trying to move me.

”Oh god! Sorry!” the realisation that I was holding him didn’t come until I felt my cock against his thigh. Hard. Really, really hard. I pulled away from him, but too quickly, and I banged my head against the wall.

”Morning,” Childermass smiled his little sideways smile, ”go back to sleep. We can’t leave yet.”

Was he just going to ignore what I’d just done?

”Uh. I-”

”It’s freezing in here, don’t worry. I’ll get the fire started again.”

And that was that. I stayed in bed until he’d gone outside (to the car, to see if the road had been cleared) and I wanked to the thought of his arms pinning me down on this bed. I had the tea ready by the time he got back. He told me the road was looking worse, and it was still snowing.

”It’s almost dark, so it looks as though we might be stuck here another night.”

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and poured some tea. I was spending New Year’s Eve in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with John Childermass for company. Things were already strange, so why not. Maybe I’d kiss him at midnight. Maybe I’d run all the way back to civilization.

We made dinner together, he cooked the venison he’d gotten back in Hurtfew and I made a salad.

Just like the previous night, we settled in front of the fire after we’d eaten. The only differences were that we’d both put on clean clothes and we were both already buzzed. Childermass glanced down at his watch.

”Only an hour left.”

”I’m really spending the last hour of the 80s with you.” I had not planned on saying that out loud.

Childermass sighed, took a sip (of whiskey) from his glass and looked at me with an arched eyebrow: ”Really?”

”No. Yes. I mean, it’s nice.”

”You’re serious?” he asked and I let out a huff of laughter.

”Yes! Like you said, my plans for tonight were shit anyways.”

”I didn’t-”

”No. Sorry. I’m actually having a good time, okay?”

The last hour of 1989 passed quickly, and Childermass popped the bottle of Champagne open at a quarter to midnight, ”we’ll just get too drunk on everything else unless we start on this now,” he reasoned and I couldn’t complain.

”Can I ask you something?”

I glanced down at my watch. Two minutes left.

”Can it wait three minutes?”

”I’d rather ask now,” he said and I just nodded to let him continue, “you know I don’t hate you, right?”

I was sloshed and not quite sure where the hell that had come from.

”I don’t hate you either. C’mon, fill the glasses.”

He refilled the glasses and everything was happening so fast. I glanced down at my watch and we were only seconds away and I decided I was going to do it.

”Happy new-”

I kissed him. I softly pressed my lips against his and closed my eyes, just the smallest of kisses, just to tell him I appreciate him. Just to tell him I love him. I felt him tensing up and I pulled back. His eyes were as wide as mine probably were.

“No, no. Please,” Childermass whispered, and I saw him lick his lips before leaning in and kissing me back. The second kiss was softer and wetter, and there was no hesitation on either side. I kept my eyes closed and felt the fireworks go off inside of me. A thousand people were cheering and there was only us. He put a hand on my neck and brushed his tongue against my bottom lip and I moaned into his mouth when I finally got to taste him. He tasted of champagne and cigarettes and peppermint and it was the greatest kiss of my life. The angle was awkward and we might still have been in mortal danger but I was warm and drunk and with him and his tongue met mina and there were sparks going through my body and there was no possibility that he couldn’t feel it too.

We pulled apart, and we were both gasping for air. His lips slightly parted and eyes dark and glistening and the fire dancing across his face all added up to the most gorgeous sight.

“You-” Childermass’ voice cracked – he picked up the bottle by the neck and took a large sip. It made a popping sound when he pulled it from his lips and offered it to me.

“You’re fucking beautiful.”

I knew I was drunk but I was used to being drunk and I knew I wasn’t drunk enough to be making this up. Childermass had kissed me back. Childermass had _moaned_ and touched me. I took a smal sip from the bottle and put it back down on the floor, my eyes trained on Childermass, just to make sure he didn’t disappear.

I was sure I could both hear and feel my heart beating inside my chest. Childermass reached out again, touched my lip with his thumb. The world outside disappeared. The world inside disappeared. The fire went quiet and the ugly furniture were no longer there and the entire world was Childermass – who was looking at me with soft brown eyes, who was running his fingers down my jaw and who was moving closer- placing his legs; straddling me oh god oh god oh god. I gasped.

“Is this okay?” Childermass whispered into my ear, his warm breath dancing across my skin and his thighs brushing against mine.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“It’s very… very okay.”

We went to the bed, the bed I’d been holding him in only this morning. He pushed me down and straddled me again, he rolled his hips against mine and I moaned and then he was kissing me again, rough and wet and with such an intensity. He pulled back, kissed me once more before leaning into my neck, grazing my neck with his teeth. Not enough to leave a mark but enough to send shivers through my body. Could he hear my heartbeat now? He dug his teeth into a spot just above my collarbone, still not very hard but this time it hurt and I made an undignified sound. He pressed his lips to the spot and then dragged his tongue up to my ear. .

”Please…” I tried to keep my voice steady, normal, but all I could do was whimper. He pulled back from and looked at me, all dark eyes under dark lashes and mouth just a bit open and want written over his face. He wants ME.

”Please what?”

”Anything…”

And so he started taking my clothes off infuriatingly slow. Button by button, placing soft kisses on my bare skin between every button and gently pushing the shirt to the side until he can push it away completely. He touched every inch of my exposed skin. Palms, fingertips and nails. He knew exactly what he was doing - dragging his nails over my chest and then just the fingertips right below my belly button.

”You’re exquisite,” he whispered as he dragged both hands across my chest.

”I’d be happy just touching you like this,” he leaned down and flicked his tongue over my left nipple, “all night,” and then tongue on the other nipple, and I was squirming.

”You’re so fucking sexy right now.”

He placed a trail of light kisses back up to my neck, where he nibbled and licked and sucked (oh god was he leaving marks) and I tried to lay still but I couldn’t help pushing my hips up, grinding against him in any way I could but he stopped what he was doing to put his hands on my hips. Holding me down.

”Can you stay still for me?”

”Y-yes…” my voice trembled and he was making me so weak. He knew just what to do to me.

”Good.”

He slipped two fingers into the waistline of my jeans, moving back and forth, making me gasp as he brushed against the sensitive skin right next to my hip bones. I had to clench my fists to keep from moving, from touching him.

”You know, I think I could come from just touching you.”

His voice was thick syrup and I wanted him to keep pouring it over me.

”Please.”

”What?” he pulled out of my jeans and quickly slides his hand down, pressing his palm over my cock and I just moaned.

He pulled my jeans down, slowly and carefully, ”Christ, do you have any idea?” he settled between my legs, dragging his fingertips over my thighs, ”You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

He finally reached my cock, rubbing his thumb over the top, spreading the precome over the head before slowly wrapping his hand around it and giving it one slow stroke. He looked up at me with his darkened eyes and I wanted him to look at me like that forever.

”Can I taste you?”

My breath caught and I couldn't believe he’s actually asking this, “ _please_ ,” I whimpered.

He kept his eyes locked with mine as he moved down and dragged his tongue across the top and I could barely keep still. He gave me his sideways grin and then his lips closed around my cock, his head pushed down, tongue dragging against the back and lips softly wrapped around it and he reached the base of my cock before pulling back up and I lost it. I lifted my hips, pushing myself back into his mouth and he moaned around me – but then he put his hands on my hips and pushed me down, while pulling himself back up.

”I told you to be still,” his syrupy voice dripped down over me, and I shuddered as he continued, ”I really wanted you to come in my mouth…”

”I’m sorry. I’ll… please. Oh, please.”

”Can I finger you?”

I nodded and he got up from the bed, rummaging through his backpack before returning with a bottle of lube. Why did he even bring lube? It was cold from having been on the floor, and I gasped when I felt it run down my ass.

“Sorry,” he whispered and then his hand ws there, warm and soft and he was taking it so slowly and carefully I couldn’t help but move against him when he finally rubbed a finger over my hole, pressing against and then slowly working his fingertip into me. I was gasping and cursing, and I was lost in the sensation as my body relaxed and his finger slid into me with ease.

”Christ, you feel so good,” he whispered and I couldn’t keep quiet as he started moving his finger inside me. I couldn’t remember a single finger ever feeling this good but he knew exactly what he’s doing as he pushed in and out of me, sometimes rubbing circles right around my opening and sometimes turning his finger just a little bit upwards and I might have been screaming.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

But I didn’t get a chance to respond, because pushed two fingers inside of me and all that left my lips was moans and gasps as he pushed and stretched and slid inside of me. He fucked me with his hand while using his other hand to slowly take off his own clothes. As soon as he was naked, he looked at me in the most indecent of ways before pulling his fingers out of me, moving me to the edge of the bed and placing himself between my legs. He just stood that, teasing me, I could feel his cock brushing against me but he didn’t move, so I hooked a leg around Childermass’ waist, pulling myself closer while also pushing him closer to me.

”God, you’re…” his voice cracked and he took a deep breath before continuing, ”sorry, you’re just so gorgeous right now. So desperate to get fucked.”

I pressed my heel into his back and I was rewarded by his wicked sideways grin, “Is this your way of begging?”

“YES, yes. Please.”

He finally pushed into me and I realised I wouldn't last long. I begged again. I begged him to go fast and hard and neither of us lasted long. I fell asleep with his semen still inside me and his arm around my waist.

* * *

When I woke up, I was sticky and alone. Everything was quiet and I was sore and I had no idea where Childermass was. For all I knew, he’d left already. Panic was just beginning to settle in when the door opened.

”The storm’s over.”

”Oh.”

”Do you want to stay?”


End file.
